


Consortium

by inthus



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, bran gives the night king a hickey kinda?, im sorry y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 04:06:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18731281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthus/pseuds/inthus
Summary: A hand caressed his jaw, his brow, his hair. The Night King’s touch was horrifically, beautifully cold.





	Consortium

Mist floated through the weirwood tree, insubstantial and oppressive, like spider-silk, or heavy velvet.

The Night King approached him silently, motions possessing a stillness no mortal could ever achieve. Bran could feel no dread, nothing but the hollowness that had been his constant companion ever since the death of the Three-Eyed Raven, ever since he went beyond the Wall. Ever since his fall, perhaps. 

A hand caressed his jaw, his brow, his hair. The Night King’s touch was horrifically, beautifully cold and winter bloomed beneath his skin with each light brush. There was a savage, bittersweet burning across his wrist where he bore evidence of their last encounter. That mark had felt like– would always feel like– a seal of ownership.

The hand cupped his cheek. Without looking away, without breathing, knowing that his own cold lips would feel searingly hot on frigid skin, Bran pressed his mouth to the Night King’s wrist. 

He felt a stirring at his core, which he thought had long been given over to ice. It was an ache as harsh as shattered glass, and as sweet as liquid sunlight glazing across the skin. He let out a single sigh, which seemed to linger in the air between them endlessly. 

Slowly, the Night King’s eyes drifted down to his wrist. There, in an almost identical location to Bran’s own, was a mottled, rust-red bruise. In the bright blue eyes of the Night King, Bran caught a flicker of yearning.  

All at once, like winter streams crackling as they thawed in the sun, he felt blisteringly raw, as if he had been cracked open like a dove’s egg, or a dragon’s. Overcome, he gazed up at that monstrously exquisite face and waited; for his death, for whatever came after.

The Night King unsheathed his sword. With one smooth stroke, he thrusted it down, piercing through the white bed of snow.

Like a supplicant in the presence of his liege lord, the Night King went onto his knees before Bran. 

**Author's Note:**

> id like to think the night king makes bran co-ruler of winter after he wipes everyone out :)


End file.
